


Bad Moon Rising

by oneswhonever



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Depression, Heavy Angst, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mary Lives, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Stanford, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Hatred, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-06-04 20:27:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6674383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneswhonever/pseuds/oneswhonever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sam, you don't get it," Jess said, laying the letter flat down on the counter. "From this point on, you can only go up. This will change your whole life."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was always a stretch, and Sam knew better than to kid himself.

Really, the whole "Ivy League college" thing was more Jessica than it was him. He knew that she had a chance, and he didn't. Even if he _had_ a chance, he didn't have the money, and that played a big part. He told Jessica several times that she was better off just kicking him to the dirt while she had a chance, but of course she didn't listen - just gave Sam a teasing kiss to the lips and told him that she wouldn't leave without him.

She had better get used to the idea of low-cost community college, then. Miss straight-A class president would never dream of it. So while she was off in beautiful, sunny California, Sam would have to go right from college to the family's _rank_ auto shop every single day just to pay his way through. He knew it would be cheaper to live with his parents, but he was growing sick of hearing Dean having sex through the paper thin walls, and Gabriel seemed to have just the solution (a shabby apartment on the bad side of town; they would split the rent, which would be hardly anything, and if Sam could learn how to cook meth, then he'd really fit right in). Of course, John didn't really support this idea, but hey, once Sam turned eighteen it was frankly none of his business. It was probably pretty cruel to say, but there was no appropriate wording otherwise.

Gabriel could learn to cook meth, he reckoned. He was always better at science than Sam, who was all about logic and had a clear sense of right versus wrong. He wasn't the type who would cram their opinion down your throat, but he had strong morals that were basically budge-proof. He also had  _some_ standards, and didn't really want to be caught up in the family business - playing third wheel to John and Dean's strong bond. Would he rather cook meth? Probably. He would find out soon enough, he supposed. 

He actually had no reason to follow Jessica. She was a friend, and nothing more (no matter how much Dean thought differently, thank you). They were a short-lived rendezvous, but that was back in Sophomore year when Jessica had lower standards to the point where she would willingly date a lanky bean stalk like Sam. Not that they dated. They didn't even have sex. As far as Sam was concerned, he was used as a device to ward off creeps - so Jessica could simply say "I have a boyfriend" and have that be the end of it. Sam got a few blowjobs out of it, which was all fine and dandy, but he viewed himself as a general loser who couldn't get a girl like Jessica even _in_ his dreams. If there was one thing Dean and Gabriel could ever agree on, Jessica was way out of Sam's league, which was fine. Half of their class was certain that Sam was gay, anyway, and had used Jessica as a beard. How they assumed that, he had no idea (maybe it was his friendship with vice president Castiel Novak, who had the firmest ass of anyone Sam had ever met, but that's beyond the point).

And _no_ , he never had any sort of relations with Cas, either. Sam was pretty sure that dating your best friend's brother was a violation of several unspoken boundaries. Not like that mattered, Gabriel has been bugging Sam about getting himself a partner, but it was still decently repulsive for Sam to think about seeing as his family has had connections with the Novak family ever since Dean was bopping around in diapers. And, to top all of that off, Sam wasn't gay. At least, he didn't think so - and he had no desire to find out. They lived in a small enough, accepting enough town, so even if he was gay (and he's probably _not_ ) it wouldn't be a big issue. Cas was gay, and he was made valedictorian at graduation. No one really cared. 

The moral of Sam's whole story is this: he isn't good enough to get into Stanford, and has far as he's concerned, not good enough for much of anything. He was severely lacking in the self confidence area, which had been a problem since he was pre-pubescent, and wasn't likely to change anytime soon. His family had really good genes, his mother was beautiful and Dean was so masculine and perfectly structured - and Sam just thought he was really plain. He didn't consider himself incredibly good looking, and he didn't have much of a "wow" factor. He wasn't gifted, he had nothing to offer the world - he existed to just _exist_ and take up space. He used to think, despairingly, about ending his own life. He would have never done it, he knows that. He feared putting his family to shame, and not only that, but he didn't have much to be sad about anyway. He thought himself to be pathetic, and that was putting it gently.

And at this point it probably goes without saying that Sam definitely doesn't have the self-esteem that his older brother was blessed with. Dean was all sorts of suave and masculine and somehow made working at an auto shop, adorned in nothing but plaid, the most attractive thing a person could do. It was considerably inappropriate for Sam to view his older brother as any form of attractive, but it was undeniably platonic - his older brother was someone to look up to and admire, and there was nothing wrong with admiring Dean's good looks. 

As far as Sam is concerned, there isn't much for him in Kansas aside from Gabriel and his family. The local colleges don't have programs suited to what Sam would ideally want to do with his future (as if he could afford them in the first place), and there isn't a whole lot of opportunity for growth in careers. But out of state tuition, and the general cost of living, is pretty absurd elsewhere. Meth is starting to seem like a decent idea, actually. 

And drugs are the exact thing on his mind as he walks into the kitchen, setting his backpack down on the counter with a heavy thud, only to see Uncle Bobby sitting at the table with a beer. "Uncle" is a term thrown around loosely in the Winchester family, because Bobby isn't _really_ family; at least not genetically speaking. He's very good friends with John, however, and has been for a very long time. He is over for family holidays because he can prepare meat better than John ever could, and babysat when Sam and Dean were younger. He and John would always go out fishing or hunting, and seemed to have a genuine relationship compared to other friendships that his father had in the past (toxic relationships seemed to be a running gag in their family). 

"Hi, Bobby," Sam greeted with a grunt, reaching into the fridge for a beer of his own (John didn't seem to care, so long as Mary never caught her youngest boy drinking underage). He plopped down at the opposite end of the table, leaning back in his chair. After an impossibly long day of school followed by a trip to the store with Jessica, Sam's body was beginning to ache like an old man's would. He stretched out his shoulders, hearing a few satisfying cracks. "What's on the agenda for today? Just hanging around?"

"Your old man and Dean are still at the shop, and your mother is doing laundry downstairs," Bobby said simply. Sam loved that there was no beating around the bush with him, and no direct avoidance of answers. His father had a habit of doing that. "So, no, no plans as of yet. Depending on what's in this envelope, that is."

Bobby held out a thick envelope that Sam hadn't even noticed before it was brought into question. Sam arched a brow, setting down his beer in favor of taking the weighty paper. His heart skipped several beats when he realized the address of the paper.

Stanford, California. 

Sam hesitated, fingers playing with the firm edges nervously - too anxious to tear into it. "...When did this come in? Have my parents seen it?"

"Far as I know, no," Bobby bit his lip, eyeing up Sam out of pure curiosity. It wouldn't take a close look to realize Sam's shaking hands. "Take it easy kid. Did you really apply to Stanford? You know how far away that is..."

In spite of the circumstances, Same actually found solace in the fact that Bobby seemed genuinely more concerned about the location of the prestigious college than Sam's ability to get in. Though it was probably meant to be taken more lightly, it gave him at least the slightest amount of gratification. As it were, he wasn't used to having people believe in him.

"Yeah, but it's stupid..." Sam murmured, snatching a letter opener from the cup on the table, and nervously slicing through the thick flap. "It was more so of a reach school. Jessica really wanted me to apply with her and it's kind of just pointless, really...she has the extra curricular shit and that's no match to me...kind of a joke at this point, really..."

Sam's rambling meant anxiety, and Bobby knew that quite well. "Don't put yourself down like that, kiddo. You know-"

"...I got in..."


	2. Chapter 2

"Jo came around to see me today, so I think it's pretty safe to assume she's forgiven me at this point. We hung out all afternoon, but her mom wanted her back home for dinner...I'm still not welcome, apparently."

"Dean, honey, I'm glad you guys are getting back together and all but..."

"Mom, we're not dating. I've told you we're just friends."

The half-assed dinner conversation was starting to become stale, Sam thought. Everyday the conversation was about Jo, or the auto shop. The Winchester family conversations lacked any amount of depth, and even though Sam wasn't a scholar of any kind, he was beginning to grow bored. He was halfway wishing, at this point, that he had accepted Jessica's dinner invitation - however, he knew he would feel guilty the whole time, the knowledge of the acceptance letter was burnt into his mind and he kept scratching at his leg, where the letter was tucked into his pocket. 

As much as Sam loved his family, he was tired of listening to his know-it-all older brother acting like he was such a grown up just because he was having sex with the blonde from across the street. Dean was pathetic at best, with a shitty mechanic's job and zero plans to settle down in his life. Sam reckoned that twenty years into the future Dean would be driving the same old black impala, paying monthly child support to a kid who hated his guts.

Sam would probably be dead in a ditch. It was preferable. 

Mary ignored her eldest son, reaching over and placing a gentle hand on top of Sam's - that luxury hand cream was a gift from Sam himself, and he was happy that his mother was still using it since last Christmas. His mother was truly the most beautiful woman in the world and it was a shame she had to suffice with a Podunk middle-class area such as theirs. It could always be worse, Sam reckoned. Cooking meth came to mind.

"Sam, sweetheart," she began, her voice pure and sweet. It was a wonder how she ever ended up with a man such as John. Sam loved his father and thought he was a very respectable man, but the two really couldn't be on opposite ends of the spectrum as far as their personalities went. The idea of true love was a myth, in Sam's humble opinion. "What did you do with your day?"

For the first time in about twenty minutes, Sam was made painfully aware of Bobby's presence at the dinner table. He _really_ wasn't ready to admit to anything, and hoped and prayed that Bobby could respect that. Surely, he could.

"Nothing much," said Sam, toying with his glass of milk anxiously. He knew how awful he was at lying, and tried to avoid his mother's kind eyes. "My boss called and asked me to pick up a shift tomorrow, so I think I'm gonna do that and...start saving..."

Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam groaned as he prepared for the interjection. "Sammy, listen. College isn't going to get you much of anything other than a ton of student loans. I would save your money for something more important and just work full-time. Hardly any difference in pay."

Sam rolled his eyes - "And what would you know about college, Dean?"

Dean's eyes narrowed into an icy glare, but before he could speak up, John interjected. "You're a smart kid, Sam. I don't doubt you can get scholarships to help out with the costs. Even then, loans and grants exist for a reason. You could always just live here and save some living cost, too. You don't have to stress so hard about it, kid."

Sam felt sick to his stomach as he just smiled at his dad, getting up from the table and pushing his chair in - grabbing his backpack from the floor. "Well, thanks for dinner, Bobby. I think I'm gonna call it a night," he paused, leaning in and hugging his mom before swiftly escaping down the hallway and into his room, closing the door and promptly sinking against it. 

There was a long, winding road in front of him.

 

*

 

"Mom and dad are in bed. Ready to fess up, kid?"

Sam was strewn out across his bed, eyes fixated on the ceiling above him. A mess of textbooks and papers surrounded him, on the bed beside him and on the floor, yet he was much too stressed to care for its completion. Dean's presence definitely wasn't helping his blood pressure. 

"I have nothing to fess up to," Sam deadpanned, sitting up and brushing his floppy bangs out of his eyes. He grabbed the nearest textbook (of course it had to be Calculus) and made it look like he was working. He was sure Dean wasn't fooled. "Can you get out? I'm busy."

Dean came over and sat himself down on the edge of Sam's bed, sure to avoid the books. "You didn't seem busy a second ago. Come on, kid. I can see right through you."

"I'm seventeen years old. I'm not a kid."

Dean was the biggest know-it-all, and his superiority complex was far more than Sam could ever imagine. Make no mistake - Sam loved his brother, like he loved the rest of his family. However, sometimes they could all be overbearing. Dean didn't know when to back off, and he seemed to have difficulties judging when someone was uncomfortable. Either that or he just didn't care. 

"I'm your older brother, Sammy," said Dean as he picked up a anthropology textbook. Dean had nothing beyond a high school education - Sam knew that the majority of his family believed higher learning to be pointless and a waste of money, and Dean was no exception. However, Sam's aspirations had always extended beyond living in Kansas for the rest of the life. College, he thought, would determine whether or not his goals were obtainable. Actually getting accepted into Stanford was a good start, he reckoned. "You're an open book. Is something bothering you?"

"Oh, you know me," Sam murmured, highlighting for the sake of highlighting. Everything he was doing at this point was simply to avoid looking at Dean. "Always in the midst of a life-destroying crisis."

Nothing out of the ordinary there, he figured. 


End file.
